


Fish and Chips

by jeeno2



Series: Short Stories From the Vortex [19]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pet Store, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Silly, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 00:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7867411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/pseuds/jeeno2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the busiest day Rose's pet store has ever seen.  Unfortunately, an idiot customer with wild hair and a brown pinstriped suit keeps messing up all the shelves.  Pet store AU.  ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fish and Chips

**Author's Note:**

> For mitchesbcray, the lady who got me into this crazy tv show to begin with. She prompted me with the following: "My friend is out of town and I’m supposed to be taking care of his pet fish but it died and you work at the pet store help me find one that looks the same so he won’t notice." And I will never be able to deny my sweet mitchy anything she wants. <3 
> 
> Ftr, this might be the silliest thing I've ever written (since the fic about the sentient trousers anyway). ;)

_8:30 a.m._

Rose walks into the break room and clocks in, pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail.

She yawns, rubbing her eyes.

She’s not used to being at work quite so early in the morning.  Normally, of course, her shift doesn’t start ‘til eleven.  But today isn’t a normal day.  Not only is PetFriends having its annual _Dog Food Double Coupon Day!_ – an event that brings dog-loving bargain hunters in from all over London – they’re also running their half-off cat grooming special like they always do the last Wednesday of the month.  

Rose and her coworkers had to come in early today whether they needed the overtime or not.

“All right, everyone,” Jack Harkness, the store manager, says, striding into the break room and clapping his hands.  People who’d been milling about and chatting put down their coffees and water bottles and look up at him expectantly.  

When he’s got everyone’s attention he claps his hands again.  “To your battle stations!” 

“Here we go,” Rose says under her breath, bracing herself for the day to come.

 

* * *

 

_8:45 a.m._

To her very pleasant surprise, Rose isn’t in charge of cat shampooing today.  What a thankless job  _that_  is.  Her scratches from last week’s _Shampooing Extravaganza!_  event still haven’t fully healed.

No.  Today, she’s got the fish tanks.    

A lot of the people she works with think the fish section is boring.  Rose likes it, though. She’s knows more about the guppies, goldfish, and even the more exotic breeds they sell than most of her coworkers.  And Rose has always found watching fish swimming round in their tanks rather soothing.  

Perhaps most importantly for today’s purposes, though, the fish area is usually the easiest section in the store.

But not today.  Whoever closed up last night clearly forgot to tidy up by the fish.  The cans of food are in total disarray, with different brands tossed haphazardly together.  Even worse, the tank cleaning supplies are all in a jumble on the floor.    

If this stuff isn’t in order before the mad bargain hunters arrive in fifteen minutes it’s just going to make her day that much harder.

Rose sighs, tightening the elastic band around her ponytail.  As she bends down to pick up the tank supplies she starts counting down the minutes until she can go home and go back to bed.

 

* * *

_10:26 a.m._

_“Assistance needed at register three.  Repeat: assistance needed at register three.”_

Jack’s voice rings out loudly throughout the store over the intercom.  And that’s Rose’s cue.  

She hurries to the front of the store and quickly gets behind register three.  She flicks on the overhead light switch to let customers know she’s open.  A throng of eager shoppers rushes over immediately.

“Form a queue, please!” she tells them.  “’s the only way I’ll be able to help you.”  To her relief the customers comply immediately, lining up in front of her register in an orderly single file.  

Rose can still see the fish section out of her peripheral vision as she rings up the first customer.  To her dismay, some crazy-haired bloke in a brown suit is there now, madly ransacking the supplies it took her nearly an hour to set to rights.  He starts with the fish food, tossing each can aside half a moment after he’s picked it up.  Apparently not finding what he’s looking for in there he quickly moves on to the cleaning brushes, and then finally to the little specialty toys hidden behind the fake coral reefs.

After he’s thoroughly trashed multiple shelves he runs his hands anxiously through his hair, making it an even bigger chaotic mess than it already was.  And then, without putting anything back the way it had been, he abruptly strides off in the direction of the store’s exit.

Rose clenches her teeth and shuts her eyes.  In less than two minutes this idiot created another half hour of work for her.  Just what she needed on the store’s busiest day of the year.

 

* * *

_11:58 a.m._

Rose is stuck on registers for the next hour and a half.  

She doesn’t much care for register duty, normally. But there’s nothing to be done for it.  This is the busiest PetFriends has been in ages.  Even with everyone working extra hours they’re still short-staffed.  Asking Jack to het her off registers so she can go back to hiding among the fish is out of the question.

To Rose’s relief, Martha – who’d been grooming cats all morning – does the best she can to fix the mess that arsehole made of the fish section.  She isn’t able to put it all back together before she’s called back to the cat room but it’s a start.

“Why don’t you go grab something to eat?” Jack says, coming up behind her and putting a hand on her shoulder.  “We still have a long day ahead of us.  Don’t want you burning out.”  He winks at her.

“Thanks,” Rose says gratefully.  She quickly locks up her register (before Jack has a chance to change his mind) and grabs her bag.  “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

 

* * *

_12:22 p.m._

When Rose returns from lunch the fish shelves are an even bigger mess than they’d been before she’d left.

“What in the bloody hell happened?” she asks Martha, who’s on the floor picking up cans of fish food again.

“That moron came back while you were gone, dug his mitts through every single item on these shelves, and then ran off like the cops were chasing him.” Martha rolls her eyes.  “I’m so sorry.  I’ve been trying to fix it for you but I’ve got furious, half-shampoo’d cats to deal with.”

Rose shakes her head.

“Thank you, Martha.  And no, don’t apologize.  It’s not your fault,” Rose says.  She bends down and picks up a few cans.  She starts to methodically put them back on the shelves, willing them to stay put this time.  “It’s his fault, of course. The tosser’s probably never worked retail a day in his life.”

Martha laughs.

“I’m sure you’re right.”

As Rose opens a can of food and gently shakes some flakes into the nearest tank, she vows silently to kick this guy’s arse if she ever sees him again.

 

* * *

 

_2:45 p.m._

She doesn’t have to wait long.

Twenty minutes before her next scheduled break, he shows up again.  He glances around the store like a manic, lost puppy.  And then, with a look of mad determination on his face that Rose has only seen in action films where the hero’s about to do something extremely risky and very stupid, he makes a beeline right for the fish.

Rose rolls up her sleeves and glares at him. She’s ready.

Ignoring her, the guy bypasses the food this time and heads straight for the tanks.  Unfortunately, on his way to them he trips over a stray can, knocking over the display of cleaning supplies in the process and making, once again, a horrible mess of everything Rose has been trying to keep organized all day.

“ _Hey!”_  Rose shouts at him, eyes narrowed furiously.  “Just what the  _hell_  do you think you’re doing?”

The guy pauses, and then freezes.  He slowly turns his head so he’s facing her.  His bright brown eyes widen in surprise behind his horn-rimmed spectacles.  

“I’m…. sorry,” he says, very quietly.  He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down a little.  His hands are shaking.  For one insane moment Rose thinks he might be about to cry.  

“Just… hey, it’s ok,” Rose says, holding her palms up in an attempt to calm him down.  “But… I mean, what are you doing?  Why are you making such a mess?”

The guy buries his face in both hands.

“I have a big problem,” he mumbles between his fingers.  

“I’ll say you do,” she says.  “You keep trashing my store!”

He drops his hands.  His face is white, ashen.  “I’m… oh. Right.”  He blinks at her a few times before looking around at their surroundings.  “Sorry about that.”

She rolls her eyes.  “Wanna tell me why you keep doing this?”

He sighs.  “Oh.  Yes.  Of course. You see, my friend’s fish. I… um.  I’ve been watching it while she’s been out of town, you see?  And…”  The guy trails off, swallowing audibly.  

_Ah._

Rose doesn’t need to hear anything else.

“The fish died while she was away.  Didn’t it.”  Rose has worked here almost a year.  If she had a tenner for every pet-sitter who’s had a fish die while its owner was on holiday she could retire.

“Yeah,” he admits.  “I think I must have done something wrong.  I might have forgotten to feed it.  Or maybe I fed it too much.”  

He closes his eyes sadly.  He looks dejected, and horribly guilty, which makes Rose feel sorry for him despite the total havoc he’s wreaked on her day. 

“When I woke up today the fish just looked a little sick, you know?  A little peaky,” he continues.  “But I couldn’t find a vet that would agree to see a goldfish on such short notice.   Or on any sort of notice at all, actually.  So I came in here – into all the stores in this part of town, actually; not just this one –  to get some fish medicine that might perk him up.”

“Fish medicine?”  PetFriends doesn’t carry fish medicine.  Rose isn’t even sure there’s such a _thing_  as fish medicine.

He nods.  “Right.  Fish medicine.  But, well…  I wasn’t able to find any.  Not in any of the stores, actually, no matter how many times I came back to look through all the shelves.”  He has the decency to look sheepish.  "I’m afraid I’ve been a bit destructive, haven’t I.  And horribly rude.  I’m really sorry about that.  I’ve been… well.”  He swallows again.  “I’ve been a bit panicky today.”

He trails off, looking, once more, on the verge of tears.  

Rose knows what’s coming next.  “And now?” she prompts anyway, her voice kind.  Now that she knows this guy is just a terrified, clueless pet-sitter, not a total arsehole, most of her earlier fury with him has vanished.

The man sighs.  “And  _now_ , little Nemo’s floating on his back in his tank, mouth wide open.  Dead as the proverbial doornail.”     

Nemo?  The fish’s name was _Nemo?_ Rose has to fight back a laugh.  

“I’m sorry,” Rose says, biting her lip.  

The guy nods.  “Thank you,” he says, sniffing.  He looks up at her with brown, sorrowful eyes.  Something in Rose’s chest twists a little at how sincerely upset he is over losing his friend’s fish. “And now… well.  I, uh… I think I need your help.  That is, if you’re not too cross with me for wrecking your store.”

“My help?” she asks in surprise.  “I mean… yeah.  Of course,” she says.  “I work here, so… of course...” she says again.  

“Ah, thank you – err, Rose Tyler,” John says, reading her name tag. 

“That’s me,” she confirms.

“Brilliant.  Oh, I’m John,” he says, sticking out his hand.  He smiles broadly at her, showing off his straight, very white teeth.  “John Smith.  It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rose.”

 

* * *

 

_3:05 pm_

“No,” John says emphatically, for the tenth time in as many minutes, as Rose holds up yet another tiny goldfish in a net for his inspection.

“Are you sure?” Rose asks, frustration mounting.  “They all look the same, yeah?  More or less?”  

John shakes his head.  “Unfortunately, no.  They don’t.”  He stands up straight, sniffing.  “Nemo had a very distinctive black stripe on his belly.  None of the fish you’ve shown me so far has got that stripe.”  

Rose sighs and dumps the fish back into its tank.

“We don’t have any goldfish with black stripes, John,” she tells him.  “We did last week, but we sold out of them.”

John closes his eyes and sighs.  He rubs at the back of his neck distractedly.

“If this friend is so important to you, you really should come clean,” Rose tells him.  “Tell her the truth.  It’s not right, you know – passing off some other goldfish as the one she left you with.”

John nods glumly.  He looks down at his shoes.

“She should never have left him with me,” he mumbles, so quietly Rose almost can’t make out the words.  “I’m rubbish at this sort of thing.”

Rose swats him reproachfully on the arm.  He looks up at her, eyes wide with surprise.

“ _You’re_ not rubbish.  It’s the fish that are rubbish.  Or their lifespans are, anyway.  They normally live about a week.”  She shakes her head.  “The really lucky ones maybe last a month.  Occasionally two, but that’s about it.”

John blinks at her, stunned.  “Really?”

“Really,” she confirms.  “When’d your girlfriend get Nemo, anyway?”

John holds up his hands defensively.  “Oh, no.  No, no.  Donna’s definitely not my girlfriend.”  He shakes his head vigorously, his lips pressed tightly together in a thin line.

Rose smiles in spite of herself.  Is he blushing?  “Fair enough, then.  When did your _friend_ get Nemo?”  

John tugs a little on his ear, thinking.  “Oh, I dunno.  Maybe last month?”

Rose nods.  “There you are, then.  Nemo’s number was up.  Had nothin’ to do with you.”

For the first time since walking into the store John looks hopeful.  “Really?  I mean… are you certain about that?”

She smiles at him. “Yes.”

“Okay, then,” John says. “Unfortunately, though, I still have a bit of a problem on my hands.  Even assuming his death wasn’t my fault, Nemo _is_ still dead.  Your store apparently has no lookalikes, and Donna’s my best mate.  What do I do?”

Rose smiles at him. She takes his arm.  “Come with me.”

 

* * *

 

_3:45_

John holds up his new plastic container to eye level and looks at the little clown fish swimming around inside it.

“You think she’ll like him?” John asks.

Rose shrugs.  “I mean, it’s not a pet you can cuddle or play with,” she says.  “All he’s really ever gonna do is swim about in his little tank, you know?   But if she liked Nemo as a pet she’ll probably like this new one well enough.”

He looks up at her, smiling a little.

“Thank you so much for your help today, Rose.”  He looks down at the ground and toes at the floor with his trainers.  “How can I… um… how can I thank you?  For, you know… talking me down earlier, and for all your help?”

He’s blushing again. Before she can stop herself from doing it Rose dips her fingertips into a nearby tank.  She flicks a few droplets of water in his direction.  She know she shouldn’t do something like that to a customer – but he just looks so cute, and daft, and ridiculous right now, blushing in the middle of the fish section he spent most of the day destroying, holding up his silly little Tupperware full of fish and water in his fancy suit and trainers.  

“Hey!” he says, sounding affronted as the drops land on his tie.  But he’s grinning at her now, showing off a delicious little dimple in his cheek Rose hadn’t noticed earlier.  He rubs theatrically at his necktie, pretending to dry it off.  

“I have an idea for how you can thank me,” Rose says, smiling back at him.  She touches the tip of her tongue to the corner of her mouth. His eyes track its movement, making Rose’s stomach do a funny little flip.  

“Yeah?”

She nods.  “Yeah.  You can help me clean up the mess you’ve made today,” she says.  

He nods, still smiling.  “It would be my pleasure, Rose Tyler.  And I suppose it’s only fair.”

 

* * *

 

_8:26 pm_

When Rose gets back to her car at the end of the longest day at PetFriends she can remember, she sees a piece of lined notebook paper folded neatly in half and tucked underneath one of the wipers.

_Huh._

Confused but hopeful, and with her heart in her throat, Rose reaches out and grabs the note with shaking fingers.

As soon as she begins to read it her suspicions are confirmed.  And she breaks into a broad smile.

 

\---

_Hi Rose,_

_(Or at least, I hope this is Rose.  While we were tidying up the pet store a very pretty girl named Rose told me she attended Crimmons University for a few semesters. And this car has a Crimmons University sticker on its boot. So I did some deducting, etc.)_

_Anyway.  Rose: if this is indeed your car, and you are the one reading this note, I wanted to thank you, again, so much, for your patience today.  You really helped me.  God knows after the way I behaved I certainly didn’t deserve your kindness._

_Also.  I was too nervous to ask you this in person while we were tidying up… but I was wondering whether, as an additional way to make up for my being a total prat today, I could buy you a drink sometime.  Or chips. Or whether you’d like to do anything at all with me sometime, honestly._ _I’ve never left a note like this on a girl’s car before but in my defense you are kind, and caring, and giving in a way I don’t think I’ve ever quite experienced before, either.  Not to mention gorgeous, and smart, and funny.  I wish I knew more about you.  I’d love to get the chance._

_Feel free to toss this note in the rubbish bin if you think this is creepy.  But I’d love to hear from you.  If, you know.  If you want._  
  


_Yours,_

_John_

_Ps:  Here’s my number:  555-555-1010_

_Pps:  In case I didn’t mention it earlier, I think you’re ~quite the catch.~_

_\---_

 

Rose bursts out laughing at this ridiculous man and his ridiculous pun.

Grinning from ear to ear, she tucks John’s little note into her purse.  She’s starving, and right now she needs food and a long sleep more than anything else.  But anyone who’s willing to go to such mad extremes over a bloody goldfish…

Well.  She supposes there have been worse things to come out of a long day at work than this.


End file.
